


Blaming you, blaming me

by TheLockPickingVictorian



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BWWB, Before Ward went bad, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-29
Updated: 2014-10-29
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2533547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLockPickingVictorian/pseuds/TheLockPickingVictorian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson had never been cruel to her. She knew this. She was a part of his team and he was a part of hers and that meant something, to her at least. He’d never set out to hurt her intentionally, never actually laid a finger on her at all, good or bad, if her memory served her correctly, and Jemma had always known without a doubt that if something were ever to happen to her, he’d fight tooth and nail to make it right. That’s the sort of man Philip Coulson is, she’d assured her parents when she told them. Valuing everyone as high as he can, putting everyone above himself, holding everyone as an equal.</p><p>But, being truthful, at least to herself, she knew it wasn’t true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blaming you, blaming me

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of this, but I'm not sure if I did the idea justice. But still, I think it's decent (?)  
> Also, I love Coulson, even if he can be a douche sometimes. I do not think he's a harsh as I've made him out to be.
> 
> This also plays on my headcanon that Jemma has a older brother (James) and two twin sisters (Kelly and Kythren).
> 
> TLPV Xx

Coulson had never been cruel to her. She knew this. She was a part of his team and he was a part of hers and that meant something, to her at least. He’d never set out to hurt her intentionally, never actually laid a finger on her at all, good or bad, if her memory served her correctly, and Jemma had always known without a doubt that if something were ever to happen to her, he’d fight tooth and nail to make it right. That’s the sort of man Philip Coulson is, she’d assured her parents when she told them. Valuing everyone as high as he can, putting everyone above himself, holding everyone as an equal.

But, being truthful, at least to herself, she knew it wasn’t true. They weren’t all equal on the team, far from it. She expected a divide between Sci-Tech and Operations, the way it had always been, but still for everyone to be treated fairly. After all, Sci-Tech was defenceless without Opps to protect them while they made their magic, and Opps needed whatever Sci-Tech could give them to defend them. Give and take. A symbiotic relationship. They shouldn’t have treated any differently though.

May was fresh out of retirement. _The Cavalry_. So the fact that Coulson treated her differently didn’t throw Jemma for a second. There was history there, or maybe it was _history_ , who was she to judge, and after all, May was just the pilot (until she wasn’t).

Ward didn’t like her (them) and she wasn’t exactly his biggest fan either. Coulson was different with him too. But there were still the small attempts at humour between them – usually _from_ Coulson _to_ Ward, but the big guy surprised them sometimes – and the men in suits and bonded over alcohol in much the same way that her mother had done with her friends when Jemma was younger and still at home.

She didn’t expect Skye. She didn’t expect to form the bond that she did with the younger woman, to come to love and trust and cherish her as she did her two, blood related younger sisters (well, and her elder brother too, but there was something to be said for girl power). Coulson was warm with Skye. Pulling her into the odd hug here and there if she was upset about something, giving her extra leeway to break the rules when and how she pleased if she could get them results, trusting her with Lola. Three months in, and Skye was the ‘it’ girl on the bus, not just the IT girl. The girl who May identified with, who Fitz ( _her_ Fitz) had the _tiniest_ of crushes on, who she had practically adopted and who Ward was slowly and surely falling head over heals for. The girl who jokingly called Coulson “Dad” with far more honesty in her voice than Jemma had ever heard from anyone.

But if there was one thing Jemma Simmons wasn’t, it was stupid.

Their first mission, when they’d adopted Skye into the team, and Coulson was vigorous. Demanding. He barely looked at Fitz, because somehow, for some reason, all his anger was directed at her, barking orders to find a third way as if he thought that wasn’t what they were working on already, voice raised as he stepped closer to her to snap. And they’d produced miracles yet again, finally perfecting the NIGHT-NIGHT gun they’d been developing for the last year and a half; not their longest project, but one of their hardest and it would definitely not going to remain the NIGHT-NIGHT gun, but it would work for now. Mike was alive and so was the girl Coulson had become irrationally attached to in little over an hour. The rest of the train station still being alive was also an added plus.

But Coulson didn’t even offer them a simple “Well done” as Mike was taken away. Just a small incline of the head, more in Fitz’s direction than hers, and an “I thought you’d actually killed him for a second. Fix that, yeah?” and a beaming smile in Skye’s direction. But then Fitz was there, pulling her into the lounge and pressing a cold beer into her hand, trailing fingers down her arm in reassurance while he offered her a smile of his own before he returned to his food. But then Ward was calling in a 0-8-4 and anything negative was pushed to the back of her over active mind because she’d always wanted to see one.

Time ticked on as it always did and Coulson insisted they remove Akela Amador’s implanted eye, which was something she understood perfectly, it was a reasonable thing to do considering that it could kill her if Ward wasn’t careful while impersonating her, but in all honestly she’s really not the best person for the job. It’s not something that she’d ever done before and her hands shook uncontrollably with nerves at the thought of removing someone’s eyeball, prosthetic or not (She’s a biochemist, she’s not heartless) and her lab partner – bless him – was the sort of person who turned green at the word ‘blood’, almost threw up when ‘surgery’ was mention, and she didn’t even want to think about what he’d be like if he had to be there (and since her eye is mainly machine, he _would_ have to be there). But Coulson gave the word, and as she’d come to learn quite quickly, Coulson’s word is final, so she braided her hair and rubbed her hands over Fitz’s shoulder to calm him, because he was bopping in place with energy, just as nervous as she was.

They never spoke of that particular issue again. Because before she could blink she’s watching Skye hand over information (Okay, a warning) to members of the Rising Tide (Okay, her boyfriend within the Rising Tide), and most of her is relieved when Coulson gives her a second chance and a flashy new bracelet she’s sure Fitz designed. But her night, unintentionally, was spent wondering whether he would extend the same cursory to her (She decided he’d never have to; _she liked following the rules and doing what was expected of her_. It became a mantra, one that was rarely spoken outside the confines of her own head – Once to Fitz, once to Skye. And then it was forgotten about completely).

And suddenly, in almost the next second it seemed, her brain had clocked over from working out the cure Coulson had asked for, to realising she’d better get a move on with said cure because the fire-fighters didn’t need it now, but she did, and she never wanted to endanger her team like this. She knew protocol, knew that somewhere above her on a screen just as big as the Holocom she was working on, a higher-up was attempting to convince Coulson to dump the infected cargo, because now that’s all she was. Cargo. And infected. But he doesn’t. So when she finally let it sink in there was no hope of finding a cure in time, she’d done it herself, terrified of dying, but even more afraid to be her friends’ cause of death. One extra glance back at a now conscious Fitz had reminded her of that, and if she had other reasons for it, she’d be dead, no one would care. (Fitz had, and he’d hid the fire extinguisher from her for months.)

But, just like that, the bad blood between her and Coulson disappeared almost completely, until she was asking herself if she’d imagined it all, as if the use of her first name had evened something out between them. So when he was taken, she didn’t work to find him because she was told to. She worked to find him because she wanted to, because he would have done the same for her and she had begun to think of him as a friend as well as a superior officer and a father figure. Even if it meant letting Skye go off on her own to do so. Skye’s bracelet came off that day, and all the praise she received was rightfully deserved. ( _Well, most of it._ )

And then… oh, and _then_ Ian Quinn shot Skye

Professionalism was her coping mechanism, Fitz had declared long ago. And so she used it when Coulson hollered her name from the basement and she’d flurried down the two flights of stairs between them of the toes of her feet, silent as ever as Fitz thundered half a step behind her. Impossible solutions that would have been possible if she’d even thought to bring a med kit swarmed inside her brain while she stumbled for a possible answer, and suddenly Coulson was yelling orders in her ear again, emotions overtaking him as she finally caught sight of something that could help them. She expelled the slightest bit of her anger at Ward when he decided to question her at her profession and bottled the rest as they stabilised the dying girl. Nobody wanted to see her emotions then.

(She calmed down eventually, her cheeks red and blotchy as she shivered, sat with her back to the wall in the supply closet, Fitz’s shirt almost as wet as her face when the tears finally stopped. He pulled her back up to her feet and tucked her under his arm as he warmed her and lead her out of the room, her head turned into his shoulder, hiding her face as he lead her back to her bunk. He made her tea, brought her the last blueberry muffin from the kitchenette that should have been his, wrapped her up in the soft blanket he’d brought from his own room and held on to her just as tightly as she wound herself around him. He fell asleep as she was drifting off, his forehead against her collarbone, his snoring drowning out the sound of Coulson hollering for her from downstairs.)

GH-325 seriously pissed her off. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to know that it even existed, only being level five, but then she wasn’t technically supposed to know that Coulson was alive either. Coming onto the plane had seemed to push both her and Fitz up nearly three levels in every way but on paper. So while she’s busy reading through Coulson’s case file, Fitz disappeared down underground to find the miracle drug, And all the while, Coulson stood behind them, physically and mentally, hollering orders, demanding, glaring. And Jemma, being the double PhD genius with no social skills that she was, followed each order to the letter without a single complaint.

From her.

* * *

“Simmons.” Coulson called across the meeting room, and her eyes flew up from the reports the swirled in front of her eyes. She’d been staring at them for at least a good few minutes. None of the information was going in.

“Yes Sir?” She blinked once, and then again when her sight blurred slightly.

“No new information to give us?” He drummed his fingers across the back of the tablet he was holding (that she was pretty sure was Fitz’s), his face bland of most emotions. Apathy seemed to shine through pretty well though.

“Umm, not at the minute Sir.”

“ _Really?_ ” Coulson stressed the word like he didn’t believe her, but she was certain that he did. Her brain blurred again momentarily while she fought to keep her eyes open, and she swayed slightly, her shoulder bopping into Fitz’s accidently. He bopped her back gently, smiling back at her reassuringly when she looked up at his to apologise. Surly her brain had to be playing tricks on her now; there was no _way_ he was that much taller than her. It was only four inches between them. She’d measured it herself when they’d stopped growing.

“So there are no new developments with the bait then?” Coulson was saying when she made herself pay attention to him. Oh yes. That’s why she’d been called away from her research, research researching and creating an organism (it only had to be a few cells, as long as it was alive it didn’t really matter) infused with alien DNA (that had been Coulson’s exact words. _‘infused with alien DNA’_ ) to attract another, different alien. To report to Coulson that her research was not going well.

“Umm…” She curled her nose up and shuffled slightly to the side, tucking herself into her lab partner as inconspicuously as possible. “It’s getting there?” She shrugged a shoulder, she science of exactly _why_ it was so difficult running through her wired brain, and then out of her mouth automatically, without her consent. “I mean, introducing the Mitochondria from one organism into the cells of another, and then the haemoglobin into yet another… that would be hard enough to do from – I don’t know – a German Sheppard into a Cocker Spaniel, but to do it from one species to another, that’s like trying to stick insect wings onto-“ She waved her hand around, trying to locate a suitable candidate. “-Ward! It just doesn’t want to work! No offence.” She tack on, glancing at the man.

“None taken.” The specialist waved a hand at her. “I’m flattered, actually.” The corners of his mouth ticked up in half smile.

“Simmons!” Coulson barked, and her eyes flicked to him, her shoulders shrinking. “How long?”

“Maybe…” She trailed off, sighing. “Six hours? Seven at most!” She promised, voice slightly louder.

“Seven hours.” Coulson repeated. It wasn’t a question. “Do I even want to hear what you’ve been doing for the last,” He checked his watch. “Three hours?”

She tucked herself back into Fitz again, her head aching as she pressed herself back into the soft wool of his jumper, the heat of him burning into her permanently cold skin threw the layers in a way that was normally a comfort to her, but when his gentle hands came up to her shoulders to hold her steady, Jemma felt trapped, like there were too many people expecting too many things from her. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her lab with Fitz, working on the DWARFs or the NIGHT-NIGHT pistol.

“There are test subjects and prototypes and-“

_“Not good enough!”_

She flinched, as did Fitz behind her, their shoulders jarring upwards simultaneously at the volume of the older man’s voice.

“I’m trying!” She promised, but it sounded more like begging than anything else. Her eyes blurred, and she forced them closed, scared to let the tears fall. _Please don’t let me be than girl._

“ _Simmons!_ ” Coulson insisted. And then the tears slipped, falling down her face and she turned herself into Fitz, pushing her cheek into his arm, the fluffy wool of his jacket suddenly as wet as her face and her eyes wouldn’t stay open now. Her knees wanted to collapse beneath her and she swayed again, her ankles giving way instead in her flat converses and her mind (even though it had always seemed impossible) went blank. Then the floor was far too close to her, and there were arms around her waist pulling her up and _what the hell was happening?_

“Jemma?” Fitz’s voice whispered, but she didn’t need to hear him speak to know that it was him that supported her as she found her feet again, his grip loosening but not leaving her once she was able to support her own weight again.

“‘M okay.” She muttered, raising her head and pressing the heels of her eyes and opening her eyes as wide as they would go. The world went blurry again.

“Simmons!” Skye dove towards her when Fitz caught her this time, but recoiled her hands at the last moment. May stepped forward them, pushing Fitz’s fingers off of her gently as she wrapped her fingers around the top of Jemma’s shoulders. The older woman brushed her fingers under Jemma’s chin, lifting it up, and the still somehow scientific part of her brain recognised that she was checking the size of her pupils.

“She needs to sleep, but letting her sit down will be enough for now.” She told their spectators, before she guided her through the gap to the push seats in the living area. Jemma didn’t bother to protest. There was no point trying to fight the ninja stealth assassin that was Melinda Qiaolian May. I was better to just do as she said.

“No.” Coulson barked as he followed her. May ignored him, but Jemma looked up from where she’d buried her head in her hands. Fitz was also watching the older man, but his eyes were hard and steely, full of distaste and something that she didn’t have a name for. The last time she’d seen that look in him, his-then-girlfriend had smacked her straight up the face after she’d caught the molecular geneticist stealing from him. She hadn’t been his girlfriend for much longer after that.

“She has work to do.” Coulson was saying when she pulled herself back from her memories. “She has work that _needs_ to be finished. People will _die_ if she doesn’t!”

“She _has_ been working.” Fitz argued back, resting his dominant hand on her curved spine. “What she hasn’t been  doing is sleeping because she’s too busy working for you. She’s not been eating, She’s hardly even been drinking, because she’s trying to do what you’ve been telling her to do!”

“That’s her job.” Coulson sighed as if he was bored. “To follow my orders.”

“No.” Fitz  barked back. “She’s a Biochemist: ‘The study of chemical processes within and relating to living organisms.’ _That’s_ her job. _Science!_ Not to follow your orders!”

“You are on _my_ team!” Coulson protested, stepping towards the younger man, and Jemma scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, despite her woozy head and the protests of Ward, May and Skye. “ _I_ am your commanding officer, Agent Fitz, and I expect the agents on _my_ plane to follow _my_ orders.” He stepped closer, and Jemma pressed herself to Fitz’s front as quickly as possible. She knew that Coulson had no intention of hurting either of them, but that didn’t mean that she was going to let Fitz do something he would regret later. “Will that be a problem, Fitz?”

“No, Sir!” She said in her politest tone possible, shaking her head as she did, before her partner could even open his mouth. Which was quite an accomplishment. “We’ll uh… We’ll be in the lab if you need us!”

“No we won’t, Jemma.” Fitz sighed quietly, pulling her back into him by her wrist when she stepped towards the stairs. “You need to sleep. You nearly fainted twice and, besides, May said so.”

“And you always listen to May!” Skye pipped up, coming to stand at her other side, effectively blocking off her only escape.

“But I have work to finish!”

“You can finish it tomorrow Jemma.” Fitz told her gently, slipping his hands up her arms to hold her in place, as if she would bolt at the first opportunity. Which, if she was being completely honest with herself, she probably would.

“We have twenty hours left until the Hub needs this bait, FitzSimmons. You don’t have time to take a break.” Coulson snarled as Fitz tried to lead her from the room.

And Fitz turned back to him then, every muscle in his thin frame tensing in anger and the expression on his face seemed to turn to almost turn murderous. His head cocked slightly, eyebrows raised and eyes wide, nostrils flaring and his mouth a thin line.

“Pardon?” He asked lowly, his voice so emotionless, that it had reached the point where it was brimming with it.

“Fitz, don’t.” Jemma told him, pushing both her hands firmly against his chest to hold him away from the older man. She couldn’t even move him an inch before her brain went blurry again. Anyway, he ignored her.

“I don’t care,” He said to Coulson instead, nudging her aside softly so he could get closer to the older man. “How much higher your rank is than me, Coulson. You need to start realising that Jemma’s a person, and that you should start treating her like one. I’d ask, ‘Would you treat Skye that way?’ but I’m pretty sure that there’s not a person in this room who doesn’t know what the answer.”

“And _what_ do you mean by that, Fitz?”

“I’m pretty sure you know what I mean.” Her engineer snarled, and she had to peek around him to see what Coulson’s reaction was going to be. Fitz had strategically placed himself between them, strategic both too keep them apart and because she could lean herself against his back when her knees began to give in again, although she doubted he’d planned that big. “I mean, I’m not the only one who sees the difference in the way that you treat them. Jemma’s a dog to you, She runs around, following your instructions, answering to your every order. While Skye has the run of the mill, doing whatever the hell she pleases, as long as it doesn’t get anyone killed.”

“Simmons has a _job_ to do.” Coulson sighed, pressing his forefinger and thumb into the corner of his eyes. “She doesn’t have time to rest when there are people who could die!”

“We have _twenty hours_ , according to you!” Fitz stepped forward, his head tilted. “And Jemma will have it finished in seven. Less than that if she gets a decent amount of sleep and food in her in the thirteen hours that leaves us with. She’s saved your life in so many ways, I think that you at least owe her that.”

“Fitz,”She tugged at his arm sharply. “That’s enough. I’ll sleep when its done.” She tugged again when he ignored her. “Leo. Please, come on. Don’t do this.”

“No Jemma.” He told her, using the arm she was holding to push her backwards. He stared forward at Coulson, even though he spoke to her. “It’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough. It wouldn’t be so bad if it was something that we could both be working on. But this is something that I can’t help you with, its a workload that you can’t share, but you shouldn’t be hurting just to get it done.”

“I’m fine.” She protested weakly, even as she leant her upper body against him as her legs decided they didn’t want to hold her up again.

“Listen to your partener Fitz.” Coulson nodded. “She said that she’s fine. So I’d suggest that you both get your projects finished. A-SAP.”

“No.” Fitz’s back jolted against her shoulder, and when she finally managed to look up at his face, she could barely recognise the boy she’d met him oh so many years ago in the face of the furious man she’d trapped herself against. “Just because you’re our superior officer, doesn’t mean that you get to abuse her the way that you have since day-bloody-one. Being in a position to pick favorites doesn’t give you permission to be cruel.” Coulson spluttered, eyes wide and shocked.

“I’m… I’m not cruel!” The words gargled in his mouth, his eyes flicking between Skye and Ward, who both looked away with no comment to be made, and then he fixed his eyes on May, head tilted in question.

“Don’t look at me, Phil.” She shrugged. “I’ve got to take the kids’ side in this. They need sleep, before the lack of sleep causes them to blow the lab up. They’ll probably work it out quicker one they’ve slept. You know what they’re like.”

Coulson’s face contorted, the penny dropping, and one of Fitz’s arms wrapped around her shoulders and he tugged her gently away from the quadrivium without another word. She didn’t protest, instead simply buried her head in the fabric of his jumper, barely containing the strength to react when Skye squeezed her hand in comfort as she passed. Jemma offered her a smile and gripped back as tightly as she could for a second before Skye let her go, then wrapped an arm around Fitz’s waist, leaning her weight against him.

And again, like the night after Skye’s shooting (and the weeks that followed), Jemma tugged down on Fitz wrist when he dropped her down onto her mattress and pulled him down with her, locking her arms around his waist, both of them still fully dressed - down to her converses and blaser and his dress shoes  - as his arms wound around her, cuddling her into the constant warmth that he supplied. Her forehead clunked down against his sternum, quicker than she’d ever dozed off in her life.

* * *

Finally, not even five hours after Fitz had hauled her back into the land of the living, kicking and screaming (grunting and slapping really, Jemma Simmons was not a gentle sleeper), she bounded up the spiral stairs, flinging her lab coat over the banister as she went and chuckling at the face Fitz pulled at her between the steps when it fell on his head, grinning like an idiot when she burst through into the living area of the plane. May and Ward stood together at the bar, talking lowly, and she beamed at them.

“Is Agent Coulson in his office?” She asked, slightly breathless in her glee and she clutched the single piece of paper to her chest. May folded her arms across her chest and Ward lent his hip against the bar, both wearing identical looks of stupefaction.

“You figured it out?” Ward tilted his head, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a slight smile, and his eyes blinked with hope. Jemma nodded her head at him frantically, her grin widening to an almost impossible level, and Ward’s smile seemed to grow with hers - even May’s eyes widened, not in surprise but in jocularity, and her own mouth curled up in a small smile Jemma had only seen once or twice before.

“Yes!” The giddy biochemist offered out the paper to them but they both waved her away with spectacle glances. The chances of them understanding what she had scribbled down was slim to none. And then there was the issue of her handwriting. “I just have to show Coulson this and get him to sign of the documents saying that we can begin production. Not we as in Fitz and I, but we as in SHIELD in general, since there’s no way we’d have enough of the right chemicals on the bus to…” She watched the amused, if not some what confused, smile on their faces. “And…. you knew that didn’t you?” She shrugged, clutching the paper to her chest again. “Sorry, I’m just glad to finally get this done.”

“We’re glad you’ve finished, Simmons.” May was still smiling as she uncrossed her arms, pressing a hand down gently on Jemma’s shoulder. “And its good to see you looking better too.”

“Yeah,” Ward laughed his Ward laugh, which wasn’t really a laugh as much as a small huff of amusement through his nose and a smile, but it was the closest to a laugh that most had heard from Ward, so yes it did count, thank you very much. “I thought I was going to have to carry you to your bunk so that Fitz didn’t hurt himself trying to do it when you fainted that second time.”

“I didn’t faint.” She argued, scrunching her nose up at him. May rolled her eyes.

“Sure Simmons.” The older woman somehow managed not to sound patronising. “Coulson’s up in his office.”

“Thanks May.” She beamed, turning away from them too bound up the stairs in the room that lead to the top of the Bus and to Coulson’s office. The door in front of her was mostly closed, the gap smaller than her wrist. She faltered, tiling her head at the sound of voices from inside.

“I’m not saying that he was right, AC.” Skye was saying quietly, so Jemma pressed her ear against the door to hear her better. She’d always been too curious for her own good. “But he kinda was.”

“I’m not cruel Skye.” He argued weekly, like he didn’t believe it. “I just…”

“People were going to die and you wanted to do right by them, I get that.” The younger girl hummed thoughtfully in that very Skye-ish way. “But she’s doing her best. She’s not superhuman, like one of the avengers, okay? She’s human. She’s one of the best humans that I’ve ever met, actually. So cut her some slack, because she’s doing her best. Sometimes her best just isn’t quick enough for you.”

“But that doesn’t count as favoritism though, Skye.” Coulson contended.   

“You know what he meant by that too.” Skye told him. “The way that you treat me, and the way that you treat her, they’re very different. I mean, not to blow my own horn or anything, but you seem awfully willing to give me a tone more leeway than Simmons gets.”

“She went to the academy. You didn’t.”

“So, if you use that excuse, she should be the favorite, not me.” Skye pointed out. It seemed like a private conversation, one that she probably shouldn’t have been listening to, but they were talking about her, so how was she supposed to walk away now? “I’m not saying that you’re doing it on purpose, but it kinda shows through anyway. It’s just one of those things. People see the difference in the way that you treat us and go ‘If one had to die to save the other, he’d shot the scientist himself’.”

“I would not!” Coulson insisted, the tone of his voice increasing to a pitch she’d only ever heard once before from a bloke in her life, when she’s accidentally kneed her brother there  when he decided to tickle her back when she was sixteen. It was one that she had always associated with pain.

“I know, AC.” Skye told him gently, and Jemma could almost see her rest her hand on his arm, even with the door in the way. “But does she know that?”

And then there was the gentle thud of feet on the floor as Skye moved towards the door, and Jemma scurried back a couple of feet to the top of the stairs, trying her best to look like she hadn’t been eavesdropping at the door.

“Oh, heya Simmons!” Skye called as she spotted her, pulling the door closed behind her. “You look better! Finished that report yet?”

“Hello Skye!” She beamed at her, waving the paper at her in the same way she had at May and Ward. “Yes, finally all done with that dreaded thing. Although it was actually quite fascinating once my brain was in proper working order again!”

“I’m glad to see that you’re okay.” Skye told her gently, squeezing her shoulder tightly. “Come find me once you’ve handed that in and slept your way through a coma okay? We’ll celebrate with whatever sort of alcohol Ward forgets to lock away. Fitz can come too if you want. Think of it as the ‘kid’s bonding party’.”

“I’d like that. And I’m sure Fitz will too.” She nodded.

“I’m likely to in the living room or my bunk, with my laptop, if Fitz isn’t in the lab.” And Skye shrugged a shoulder as they swapped places at the top of the stair slowly. “It feels weird being in there without you two, you know? So if you call dibs on him, you know you won’t find me there.”

“Skye, I called dibs on Fitz almost ten years ago.” She laughed, accidentally overestimating how far away from her the door was, and her shoulder blades bumping into it.

“I’ll go tell him you said that!” Skye chuckled back, hopping down the spiral staircase until she had to crane her neck back to look at Jemma. “I’ll see you in a bit. Good luck with the SO up there!” And with that, the brunette spitfire was gone from her line of sight.

“Because that isn’t ominous at all.” The biochemist mutter quietly to herself, turning to face the door behind her. Inhaling deeply, because she was nervous now, she tapped her knuckles gently against the entryway, waiting for Coulson to acknowledge her presence. He had to know she was there, they weren’t exactly being quiet.

“Come in, Simmons.” The reply came quickly, and Jemma sighed in relief as she slid the door open, sure that her fragile heart couldn’t take it if he’d left her waiting.

“I’ve got that report for you, Sir.” She said softly, flicking her ponytail over shoulder as she closed the door behind her, unfolding the paper in her grip to offer it to him. “If I can just get your signature here, I’ll send it over to the Hub to start manufacturing.”

“Sure. Hand it over.” And she offered him the paper, holding onto the very edge of the paper so that he wouldn’t have to touch her when he took it from her. He signed the small box she’d marked with a ‘X’ with a flourish and offered it back in the same fashion, where she all but ripped it from his grip, so anxious to get to get out that she almost forgot to squeak out a thank you as she left. Almost.

“Simmons?” He called, softer than she’d ever heard him use before, even when she’d been dying. “Will you stay a second?”

“Of course, Sir!” She nodded, spinning on her heel to face him, forcing her face into a large grin as her hands shook. She clasped them behind her back so that he wouldn’t see. “How can I help?”

“Actually,” And Coulson stood from behind his desk, stepping up in front of her, looking almost as nervous as she felt. “I owe you an apology. No actually, it’s more than that. I’m not apologising because I feel like I owe it to you; I’m apologising to you because I want to. You’re a vital part of my team, and you never should have felt like you were disposable.”

“Oh, no!” She shook both her hands and her head at him. “I don’t - I know that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me! You don’t have to apologise at all. I understand just how much stress you’re under. So, uh… why don’t we forget it happened? We won’t let it affect the way we work and I’ll make sure to finish my projects earlier and sleep more and everything will be fine!” And despite the instinct telling her to run back to the lab and wrap herself around her partner, as she seemed to be doing a lot nowadays when things didn’t go as she expected them to, she stayed, feet firmly planted on the floor, waiting to be dismissed.

“But you shouldn’t have to.” Coulson told her, sitting back on his desk, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fitz was right. The way I treat you and Skye are very different. I just never saw it before. Skye’s like a daughter to me, and you’re…”

“Not.” She supplied him with, nodding her understanding. “I know, Sir. I understand.”

“You call me ‘Sir’.” Coulson pointed out, clearly struggling. “Skye doesn’t. It’s not that I care for her more than I do for you - it’s not that she means more to me than you do, I just...”

“Agent Coulson.” She cut him off again, breathing in deeply through her nose as she drew herself up to her full height again. “With all due respect Sir, you don’t need to continue. I understand. Skye’s different. Maybe it’s because even though she’s training to be a field agent, she’s sees to be more vulnerable to you. Maybe it’s because she didn’t go to the academy. Maybe just because you like her more, or she reminds you of yourself. I don’t know, I’m not a psychologist. But I do know that you’ll do anything to stop her getting hurt again. I know that you won’t let anything happen to the rest of us if you can help it, but Skye… That’s different.” She sighed. “You’d pick Skye over the rest of us any day. You’d hand me over to Quinn if that’s what it took to keep her alive.”

“I -”

“But you’re not the only one.” She sighed, slightly raggedly. “Because we all would. The only difference is you’re in the position to make that choice, and I know that when you do have to make it, you’ll feel guilty about it. So. I just wanted to say: When that day comes, you won’t have to make that choice. Because I’ve already made it.”

“What are you saying, Simmons?” Coulson asked quietly, his eyes flicking to the door and back to her nervously, but she could almost _see_ the confusion in his face.

“That I don’t want you to feel bad if - _when_ \- you choose Skye over me.” She told him surely, more sure than Jemma Simmons had been about anything in her life, other than the decision of who she wanted to be her lab partner. “Because I choose her too.”

“Why?” Coulson asked softly, his face bright with understanding.

Jemma only offered him a one shouldered shrug. “Because she’s my friend too. You’re not the only one who loves her. We all do.” And she pushed her shoulders back, closing her eyes briefly while she centred herself. “Dismissed, Sir?”

Coulson nodded at her dumbly, lost for words. And Jemma let herself out of his office with a sigh of relief and a small smile, bounding down the two staircases to her lab.

With everything said and done, she just really wanted to drag her best friend away to her bunk and use him as a pillow so that the evening would come quicker.

The evening and the alcohol.

And the bonding time with the girl who she would be glad to call her third sister.


End file.
